


Kinetic and Ephemeral

by FoxRafer



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-26
Updated: 2009-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-22 16:52:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxRafer/pseuds/FoxRafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes we find ourselves torn by inexplicable attraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kinetic and Ephemeral

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to take another challenge from the [**lotrps mprov toy**](http://boudicca.com/taters/mprov.html): Miranda and Ian with 'red herring.' I thought let's go gen but then changed my mind. And yes, I know the painting wasn't done until after filming was complete. What are facts but hindrances to art. ;-) Seriously, I just want to use it so we'll have to pretend.
> 
>  _If I was on a march at the moment I would be saying to everyone: 'Be honest with each other. Admit there are limitless possibilities in relationships, and love as many people as you can in whatever way you want, and get rid of your inhibitions, and we'll all be happy._ \- [**Ian McKellen**](http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/i/ian_mckellen.html)

From the moment he walked into the apartment, the air was electric, filled with an all too familiar energy that Ian hadn't expected here. He'd been to Miranda's home many times; they played a weekly chess match ever since he watched her wipe the floor with Bernard shortly after she arrived in New Zealand. Over time their relationship had slipped easily into something more than friendship, a connection he sometimes thought of as almost paternal. But not this evening.

Tonight Miranda was quieter than usual, her movements and posture almost practiced. If he didn't know better at times Ian thought she was flirting with him. But then she'd pour him another glass of wine and languidly transform into a goofy tomboy, all loose limbs and snorty giggles, swearing like the most foul-mouthed trucker. And he'd forget being amazingly transfixed by devilish eyes and flowing hair, lips that could tease with nothing more than the barest hint of a smile.

The game was over and they sat talking, Miranda poured into the armchair like liquid silk, almost pulsating from a force she hadn't let loose from its cage. Ian's head swam from the absurdity of it all, this sudden unexpected magnetic pull that should not exist. He picked up his glass surprised to find it somehow full again and leaned back against the cushions.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" Ian gestured almost too widely, only barely managing not to spill any of the ruby liquid onto the floor. He smiled around the words, his eyes sparkling from the wine and the strangeness of the situation.

Miranda slowly brought her own glass to her lips. "If I were," she began, taking a sip, "what do you think would happen?" She held his gaze for several moments, her face impassive.

Ian laughed without a hint of mockery. "Darling, you flatter me." He quickly drank a large mouthful of wine.

She smiled then and stood, walking over to where he sat on the sofa. "I've never tried to get someone drunk in my life, Ian. You're safe with me." Miranda placed her glass on the coffee table then leaned over to reach something just behind him. No lingering touches or accidental glances, but he could smell the delicate scent of her shampoo, feel the warmth of her, and Ian looked at his glass, wondered what kind of vintage could entice these reactions.

With a long picture tube in hand, she sat next to him, a natural, comfortable distance, and gave him an unreadable look.

"You must clean up at poker, my dear." Ian usually didn't find it so hard to appraise someone, to gather meaning from even the most subtle message. But Miranda was a conundrum, and his response to the mystery a puzzle unto itself.

"One of these days you'll have to find out." Her smile widened beyond all proportion, a blazing and deadly thing that filled Ian's vision.

She handed him the tube, taking his glass away in one smooth motion. "I bought this for you last week. As soon as I saw it I knew I had to get it for you."

Suddenly she was all excited little girl, eagerly waiting to see if her gift would be enjoyed. Ian blinked at the quick transformation, then opened the end of the tube and started shaking out the contents.

"It's a print of Hernan Bas' [**_Red Herring_**](http://www.saatchi-gallery.co.uk/artists/artpages/bas_Red_Herring.htm)," she bubbled excitedly, untethered enthusiasm bursting through as he unrolled the poster. The strokes were imprecise, almost amateurish but not, the colour and shading carefully layered to create the intriguing tableau, and Ian liked it immediately. The backs of his shoulders relaxed as it seemed they'd swerved back to familiar ground.

"I don't know what to say. It's wonderful." He leaned over to give her a quick kiss of thanks. In an instant a hand was cradling his head, holding him in place, another was sliding slowly from neck to jawline and back, fingers a gentle caress; lips demanding, compelling, overwhelming. Ian was surprised by the onslaught and his own body's reaction and when she pulled back, a hand lingering along the buttons of his shirt, he looked at flushed skin and aroused yet uncertain eyes, and for once found language had forsaken him.

The nonchalant mask began to smooth back into place and Miranda smiled, not as casually as she would have liked, her gaze shifting back to a mischievous glint. She kissed him on the cheek and stood staring down into stunned blue eyes.

"I'm not looking for forever," she whispered, then picked her glass off the table and walked out of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> This is left hanging because either it would require me to delve into the porny side, which I can't do, or it would be angsty to me and I've kind of had my fill right now of angst coming out of my head. The most I may do down the road is write something from Miranda's perspective. The rest, as they say, is up to you. :-) I'm leaving it up to the reader to decide what they think happened next. If one of you would like to pick up the mantle and go for it, I'd love to see the results.


End file.
